Storytime
by thebluninja
Summary: It's Shepard's Day at Jack's, and her grandchildren want to know about the crew of the Normandy. Written for the September Contest of Doom at Aria's Afterlife, rated T because Jack.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is my entry for the "September Contest of Doom," aka a "four things that didn't happen and one thing that did" contest. For mine, this is from the perspective of Jack, many years after the (Control) end of ME3, and is purely an exercise in creative in-universe storytelling._

* * *

><p>The door chimed for the third time. "Gimme a damn minute," Jack shouted, even though the closed door would stop them from hearing her. Striding forward, she hit the control, leaning against the doorframe and glaring out. "I thought you weren't getting here until dinner," she said.<p>

"Sorry, mom," Jason said, giving her a hug. "But our ship got in early and we thought we'd surprise you."

"Hi grandma," Cerise said, eyes fixed firmly on her omni. "Happy Shepard's Day." The teen finally looked up as Jack reached out and touseled her hair. "Grandma!"

Her brother, Patrick, smirked, until he too was subjected to the same treatment, though being almost an adult he bore it better. "So, what are we going to do for Shepard's Day, grandma?"

"You still have to wait for your cousins to get here," Jason said. His wife, Yolanda, came up then, giving Jack a quick hug. "But we insist on cooking you dinner. Great Maker knows that dad shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a kitchen."

"Hey, his cooking isn't that bad," Jack protested. "How else do you think I keep this girlish figure?" Posing provocatively against the doorframe, she ran one hand down her stomach, over the stretch marks that had distorted some of her tattoos. Her two grandchildren both made wordless protests, covering their eyes and making puking sounds.

"I suppose you might as well come on in," she said, stepping back from the door. "Don't want you to catch a cold in this balmy spring." They followed her inside, but the door hadn't closed yet when another vehicle arrived, settling down in the street. "Crap, is everyone here early?"

Stepping out of the car, her daughter, Faridah, waved. "Hi mom! We brought cookies!"

Both kids perked up at that, proving that no child is ever too old for cookies, while Jack just looked forlornly at her belly. "Now I'll have to go on another six-month diet," she lamented. Snickering, Jason pushed past her and into the living room. "Alright, kids, you know the drill. Same as last year."

"Yes, grandma," they replied. From the other car, Jensen and Julie were running across the lawn, already conversing with their cousins about the upcoming holiday weekend.

The house was a happy blend of chaos and noise for the next hour, Jack sitting in her armchair in the living room while her two children talked about everything that had been happening over the last year, and at last the conversation turned to the holiday.

"Hey, grandma?" Patrick asked. "For school, we're supposed to do a report on the _Normandy_ crew. Can you tell us about some of them?"

Jack snorted. "You want to know about the crew? Or about your grandfather?"

Cerise plopped down on the carpet, propping her chin in her hands, omni blissfully silent for once. "You've told us something about grandfather every year. What about everyone else?"

Jack settled back in her chair, motioning to Yolanda for a refill of her whiskey. "You want storytime from grandma, huh?" Taking the glass, she sipped slowly. Jensen and Julie likewise flopped around the living room, laying in positions she could only envy now. "I suppose. I warn you though, my memory isn't what it used to be."

Faridah laughed. "You mean you're going to lie outrageously and see how much your grandchildren believe it."

Smiling, Jack took another sip. "Do you really think so poorly of your own mother?"

A chorus of "yes" echoed through the living room, and Jack scowled, leaning forward and pointing her finger accusingly. "That does it, no Christmas presents for anyone." All four of the teenagers protested, while her children and their spouses just laughed. "Alright. You might find this hard to believe, but Shepard wasn't the first crewmember I met."

"The first one I met happened when I was fourteen, while I was stranded on Anhur. I'd stowed away on a freighter, and snuck off when we made landfall. Didn't take long to realize where I was, of course, but they took off before I could sneak back into the spaceport. This happened while I was skulking around nearby."

* * *

><p>Jack shuddered in the cold, blowing on her hands to keep them warm. She'd already stuffed her clothes with anything she could find to help dull the effect of the wind, and now she huddled in the corner of a window, the store long since closed, but locked up better than her amateur hacking skills could break.<p>

She watched the people in the street, scanning them for an easy mark. Most of them were batarians, and far too many of them would gladly slap restraints on her to drag her off to the slave markets. She'd seen that happen to a few other homeless people. They hadn't caught her yet, though. The shockwave she'd hit the first group with had sure stunned them.

Something large and red caught her eye, but it took a break in the crowd before she realized it was a scarred krogan, walking slowly forward as he played with his omni-tool and a credit chit. He had all the perfect signs of a normal mark - distracted, obvious money, probably unfamiliar with New Thebes - but there was the obvious downside of him being, yanno, _krogan_. They took pride in their scars, too, and you didn't get jagged lines down your face without being one hell of a warrior.

Her stomach clenched again. It had stopped making noise yesterday, and it had been almost fifteen since she'd eaten anything that didn't come out of a dumpster. Besides, she was a biotic. A kick-ass biotic. It's not like she needed to kill him, just take his credits and run for it. Krogan were big, yeah, but then they should be slow, especially with those stumpy legs.

Getting up, she shook her arms and legs to get the blood flowing again, and slipped into the crowd. Humans and batarians jostled her on each side, but she took it in stride, moving around them as she closed in on her target. He was mumbling to himself, lots of numbers, as he laboriously typed on his omni.

It took almost a quarter kilometer, of her right on his heel, before her opportunity came. A batarian stumbled on a small patch of ice, bumping into the krogan's shoulder. As he started shouting at the poor sap, she lunged forward, yanking the credit stick from his fingers and racing off.

She was on the edge of the part of town she knew well, but she should still be able to lose him. The thunderous bellow nearly made her piss herself, and the thud of his charging footsteps echoed between the shops. Catching the corner of a building, she threw herself down the alley, skidding across another ice patch and rolling across the ground.

Safe beneath the dumpster, she did her best to calm her breathing. The metal dumpster above her was cold, the ground beneath her freezing, but she'd put up with the cold for hours if she had to. Glancing at the chit, her eyes nearly bugged out as she read the three-digit number lit up on its surface. She could eat like a queen for weeks! Hell, she could even _buy_ a ticket off this ice ball instead of trying to stow away again!

Heavy footsteps echoed through the alley, and she froze, slipping the credits into her shirt. Her breathing was as light and shallow as she could make it, watching as the red boots stomped closer. He'd slowed to a walk, probably searching the buildings for a door, or another exit she could have taken.

Two steps past the dumpster, he stopped. The quiet hum of his omni seemed especially loud, even though it was barely louder than the crowd on the main street. She could only barely see his heels, view blocked by her own shoulder, but she couldn't risk moving and giving away her position.

Panic seized her as the dumpster suddenly glowed with biotic power, rising into the air. Scrambling, she shot forward, trying to escape as the krogan roared behind her. Risking a glance back, she hit the dumpster with her own biotic power as she finally made it from all fours back to her feet.

Her last sight of the krogan was him groaning on the ground, the dumpster toppled over onto him. Then she was lost in the crowd, blending with them as she hurried through the anonymous mass and back to somewhere safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Skeptical silence ruled the living room. "You hit Emperor Wrex with a dumpster," Julie said.

Jack just smiled, sipping from her glass. Faridah snorted. "I'm going to ask him, next time we visit Tuchanka, if that's true."

"He wouldn't admit it if it was," Mikail chided his wife. "A mighty krogan, outwitted and outfought by a tiny slip of a girl?"

Jason just laughed. "Uh-huh. Sorry, mom, but I'm throwing down the bullshit flag."

Gasping dramatically, Jack put one hand to her mouth. "Jason Arterius Shepard, who taught you to swear like that?"

Both Jason and Faridah answered in long-practiced unison. "You did!"

Grumbling, Jack leaned forward. "Fine. You don't believe that's how I met Wrex, huh? How about when I studied with a justicar?"

"Whoa, Justicar Samara took you on as her student?" Cerise said, rolling over and sitting up. "That sounds cool!"

Jack winced. "Well, kind of."

* * *

><p>Samara sat, unmoving, in the middle of the floor. Jack lay on the bench nearby, head hanging over the edge and watching her. The damn asari hadn't moved in four hours now, regardless of anything Jack had tried to distract her. Shouting had been fun, until her throat started to hurt. Biotic displays had gone unnoticed, and even threatening to shoot something hadnt drawn any attention. She'd been laying on the bench in various positions, staring, for the last half hour.<p>

Well, almost anything. She hadn't actually tried to touch the asari, given the face-sized ball of biotic energy held between her hands. And it was glowing pure white, a trick she'd never seen before, which was the whole reason she was here in the first place.

Groaning, Jack rolled off the bench and to her feet. "Come on, you old bitch! What will it take to learn a little bit from you?"

For the first time, Samara opened her eyes, and they were glowing the same white, which was kind of scary but really cool. "Not insulting me would be a good start."

"Insulting you?" Jack asked, confused.

Samara's eyes closed again. "Never mind."

She groaned even louder, one hand rubbing over her bald scalp in frustration. Staring at the justicar, she settled down in front of her, mirroring her posture as best she could. Jack still didn't know why the crazy asari cop/priest would sit in front of a window with her eyes closed, but if she opened them again, she'd be staring at Jack instead. Maybe blocking her view would do something.

Raising her hands, she slowly summoned up her own ball of biotic energy. Hers was, of course, the same blue-black shade her powers always were, coruscating wildly between her palms as she held her arms up in the same pose.

Ten minutes crawled by. "Why are you doing that?" Samara asked. Her eyes remained closed.

"I might learn something," Jack asked. "Or I'll piss you off until you talk to me."

"That is unlikely. I have spent four centuries as a justicar. We are known for our emotional and mental control." Samara's expression didn't change, and neither did her biotic energy change.

Jack shrugged, the simple motion almost enough to make her lose control. "Whatever." She fought to keep the ball of power in place, which was significantly harder than it might appear to an outsider. Not enough to start sweating, yet, but shed probably eat a second helping of Gardner's food.

Another five minutes passed. "What is it you hope to learn from me?"

"You're one hell of an ass-kicker, but you've got this whole, I dunno, inner peace shit going on," Jack replied. "I don't have that yet. Maybe I will once Shepard pulls his eyes away from the mineral scanner and takes us to Pragia."

"Inner peace is not something one can pick up, like food at the market," Samara chided her. "It comes from within."

"That last thing that came within me was a guy," Jack snarked.

The asari's eyes finally opened. Clearly, more sex jokes were needed to break through her shell. "Jokes are not the best emotional defense method."

Jack opened her mouth to reply, but at the same time the door slid open. Shepard stood in the doorway, staring at them for a moment. "I … should go," he said, backing out of the room. Samara didn't deign to notice his arrival or departure.

"Inner peace is knowing, and accepting, what the universe has given to you, and what it has taken away," Samara said.

Jack sat silently for several moments, contemplating those words of wisdom. Nodding, she dropped her hands to her knees. "Fuck that." Samara didnt smile, but her eyes closed again as Jack slunk out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

All four of her grandchildren stared at her with matching expressions of disbelief. "Nuh-uh, no way," Jensen said, popping a pimple as he scratched at his chin. "No way grandma mouths off to a justicar."

"Isn't Samara dead?" Patrick asked. "Like, old age?"

Jack nodded, finishing off her glass of whiskey. "A couple of years ago. Surprised the hell out of all of us. In her sleep, even, when we all figured she'd go another century or two before some asari gun runner finally got in a lucky shot." She shook her head.

Faridah smirked. "You know, I do remember dad saying something about the time the observation bay window was cracked and blown out into space."

A blush actually raised across Jack's face. "We are not talking about that now, Fari." Clearing her throat, she picked up the empty glass for a moment before setting it back down. "How about the time Miranda and I made out?"

Everyone's jaws dropped, especially her childrens'.

* * *

><p>"You cold-hearted, Cerberus bitch!" Jack snarled. The chair careened off the desk, scattering books and datapads, and leaving a rather large dent as well.<p>

"You whiny little psychopath," Miranda responded, flinging a tourist holo-cube of Illium at her.

Jack smirked as it just bounced off her barrier, shattering against the floor. "Your fucking organization made me what I am!"

"And don't try to tell me you don't love it!" Both women lunged at each other, fists and feet flying as they fought. They were both used to combat, so there was surprisingly little hair pulling and scratching, as both of them actually jabbed and kicked and continued to hurl whatever random object they could get ahold of with their biotics.

After two minutes of this, Jack finally managed a leg sweep, knocking Miranda to the floor. Dropping atop of her, they started grappling, unsophisticated yet serious, attacks now coming in knees and attempts to toss or immobilize.

Ending up face to face, they both were panting heavily, sweat dripping from Miranda's nose and running down Jack's cheek. One of Jack's arms was pinned beneath her, but the other had Miranda's arm in an elbow lock, and she could probably roll over to get the top position. If only she could tear her gaze away from those ice blue eyes.

Neither one of them are sure who moves first, but when the door opens and Shepard walks in, their tongues are twined and their clothes, while still on, are more than a little out of place. Tapping his foot, Shepard crosses his arms and looks down at them. "Jack? Miranda? Something I should know?"

Groaning, she lets her head thump against the floor. "Fuck me," she moans. One hand exits the other womans cleavage, and she tries to refasten her belt.

"Not in here," Miranda says, finally getting up, straightening her catsuit as she looks around at the devastation. "I … need to clean up this mess."

"Uh-huh," Shepard says, extending a hand to help Jack get up off the floor. "If this is going to become a regular thing," he says suggestively, only to stop as Jack slugs him in the stomach. No biotics behind it, just regular muscle power. He only grunts a little, rubbing it with one hand while his other arm snakes around her waist. "I deserved that, I'll savor it." She protests for a moment before submitting, leaning into his embrace as they walk out onto the mess decks. The door locks behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

"That's really not how I remember it," Miranda says, causing Jack to look up in surprise. "I seem to remember you limping out, bleeding from a gash in your head, and I had to have two teeth regrown."

"Hey, Cerberus bitch, when did you get here?" Jack rises from her chair, stepping over to give Miranda a hug, then her husband. "Alenko, did you hack my door again?"

"Not my fault your security protocols can be taken down by any schoolkid," he says, grinning. "You're telling tall tales about the crew, huh?"

Smirking, Jack settles down in her chair. "Yep, but only because my kids brought me the good stuff." Picking up her empty glass, she glares at it. "You only get storytime if you brought me the good stuff."

Chuckling, Miranda goes back to the front door, picking up a box and carrying it back to the armchair. "I hope this counts as the good stuff then?"

Opening the box, Jack stares at the cake, obviously homemade. "Crap, Cerberus, you make this yourself?"

Kaidan bursts out laughing. "Miranda, cook?"

"I am perfectly serviceable in the kitchen," she protests, blushing slightly.

"Sweetie, you can make a sandwich. Or a bowl of cereal. Then, you have pushed the limits of your knowledge." Still smirking, he leans over and kisses her, all of Jack's grandchildren averting their eyes.

"Alright. Cake for dessert. But not right now," Jason says, taking the delicacy from his mom's lap and moving it to safety in the kitchen. "What other ridiculous stories do you have about dad's old crew?"

Chuckling, Jack stretches in her chair. "How about the time I beat Garrus in a shooting contest?"

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><p>"Look, Jack, just because Shepard lost to me doesn't mean you have to come up here and defend his honor," Garrus said. Jack stood on the edge of the support bar, staring down at the pools of the Presidium, thirty stories below. "Also, please don't tell me you're going to jump."<p>

Laughing, she skips back from the edge. "Relax, scarface. I'm not fucking suicidal. But we both know I'm a better shot than John Shepard."

"Careful, that's your boyfriend you're mocking," he teases her, setting down the case of beer. "Just because he's an engineer, and not a trained sniper, doesn't mean he's a bad shot."

Jack gives him a flat look. "Garrus, on the collector ship, he shot a praetorian from five meters away and missed."

"But he hit the drone on the other side," he protests.

"Uh-huh. The blind luck, he does have. So, you want me to shoot first?" she asks, picking up one of the beer bottles and chugging it. "Damn, that hit the spot."

Shrugging, he reaches over, taking the empty from her. He waits a moment as she draws her pistol, flexing her fingers on the grip. At her nod, he rears back, hurling the bottle out into the empty space. Lifting the gun, she tracks it for a moment and pulls the trigger, the distant glass shattering.

"Well, not too bad," Garrus says. "Still, even Shepard hit that one."

"With a bullet, or a plasma blast?" she asks. He says nothing, finishing off his own beer, and handing her the bottle.

Her face is still lit up in a superior grin, and she takes three steps back, summoning her biotics before taking a running start to hurl the bottle. Boosted by her biotics, it shoots forward, air shrieking across the open top. Garrus lines up his shot and squeezes the trigger, then stares through the scope, jaw dropped and mandibles wide.

"Looks like I win," Jack says. "But thanks for the beer."

"Hey now, that's cheating! You can't use your biotics to pull the bottle out of the way before I fire!" He looks up as the aircar starts, Jack waving to him from the pilot seat as she flies away, leaving him sitting there at the top of the Presidium with the dextro half of the case of beer. Sulking, he sits down on the edge, watching the lines of cars moving. "I don't know what Shepard sees in that woman."


	5. Chapter 5

"Yeah, right," Julie says. "No way uncle Garrus loses, grandma. He could go blind and still take down a krogan from a kilometer away."

"With a rubber band gun," Jensen says.

"Firing backwards over his shoulder and aiming via mirror, I bet," Miranda adds dryly. Everyone laughs at that. "Come on, weepy, don't you have any stories that you're not making up?"

Jack contemplates this for several moments, long enough for Jensen and Cerise to get up and argue over who gets to use the restroom first. But she waits for her grandchildren to return before nodding. "I suppose I could tell about how Fari's dad and I got together."

Having spent the last few minutes refilling drinks, Kaidan sits down, snuggling against Miranda. "Sure, let's hear it. How did you convince the deadliest mercenary in the world to shack up with you, anyway?"

"Well," Jack muses, "it all started with some Cerberus remnants shooting at me."

* * *

><p><em>It's been a year now,<em> Jack thinks, staring at a holo advertisement. Mindoir isn't the colony she'd expected. Shepard never talked about it much, but he understood the pain she went through. He'd suffered enough on his own when the batarians attacked. It is a surprisingly resilient place, rebuilt for the second time after the Reapers. Scars can still be seen, if you know where to look, but everyone tries to ignore them, and focus instead on the day Shepard fired the Crucible. The day the Reapers stopped fighting, fixed the relays, and vanished back into the black depths.

Bending over, she looks down into the stroller. Jason is five months old now, and for once sleeping peacefully as she walks through the small shopping district. Teaching biotics isn't the job she could see herself doing a year ago, when they were fighting through London, her Alliance students dying around her. But a year ago, she still had Shepard. Now all she had was his son. She tried to tell herself it was enough, when she lay alone in bed at night.

Something catches her eye through one of the windows, and she steps a little closer, one hand on the handle of the stroller. Her eyes widen as she sees the man running towards her, battered yellow armor and assault rifle aimed in her direction. Her combat skills are a little rusty - giving birth and eleven months of peace will do that to you - but she pulls a barrier around her and throws herself in front of the stroller.

The window shatters as he leaps through it, and gunfire flies on the air. "Jack, get out of here! There's a car out back!" Zaeed shouts. Jessie, lovingly restored to immaculate condition by Tali and Garrus, comes up to his shoulder. A three-round burst slams into her back, only her biotics stopping the bullets from piercing her skin.

Yanking the stroller around, she looks over her shoulder as she fights through the panicking crowd at the door. Three men, bearing armor with Cerberus logos, are running across the street. Jessie fires, a steady stream of bullets turning one of them into mincemeat. Two men follow. One drops behind a car, evading Zaeed's fire for the moment. The other grabs a hostage.

Snarling, Jack looses a shockwave, the biotic energy enough to make the car jump twenty centimeters in the air. The man behind it flies much further than that, bouncing off the restaurant almost as high as the roof before crashing to the street. Hostage-taker gawks a moment too long, and a five-round burst perforates his head.

Jason is screaming, as Jack yanks the last of her assailants into the air, holding him steady for Zaeed to finish the job. Crowds of colonists are screaming too, but they don't matter to her. With the danger eliminated, she kneels in front of the stroller, staring in surprised wonder. One bullet hit the stroller, punching easily through the fabric and leaving a tiny, bleeding line across the tip of his nose. Aside from this, her son - _Shepard's _son - is unharmed.

Zaeed steps inside, Jessie still out and ready. "I don't know if there are any more," he warns her. "They're after Shepard's goddamn kid. Your kid."

The buckles of the stroller come apart easily under her fingers, and she presses Jason close to her shoulder. "How'd you find out?"

"Liara sent me some intel. I was here to goddamn retire, actually. Nobody else was closer than two jumps away." His left hand presses against the small of her back, guiding her through the employee area in the back of the clothing store. Jessie is held up in his right, muzzle forward, his line of fire sweeping over frightened shoppers and store clerks with careless abandon. "There were five of them. One died taking out your goddamn Secret Service escort."

"I had an escort?" she asks. A year of peace has made her woefully out of practice. Love made her out of practice too, she thinks, and hates herself for even thinking that Shepard could be to blame for this.

"Not anymore," he says. They stop at the door, letting him sweep the back street before hustling her over to a recycling truck. "Inside, quick."

She's buckling the safety harness on when the last Cerberus goon makes his appearance, opening fire with a submachine gun. Zaeed just smirks, flattening him with the truck, hardly a bump before they're to safety. Two miles down the road, they stop outside the spaceport. "Zaeed?" she asks.

"What?"

"Stay with me. There might be more of them."

They stare at each other for several long moments before he nods. A ship is just landing, a quarian design, and he leads the way. Two geth step off, waving them on board, and the door closes on that brief stage of her life.

* * *

><p>"Now that is how I goddamn remember it," Zaeed says from the doorway.<p>

Yolanda reaches up, running her finger over the small, horizontal scar on the tip of Jason's nose. "I think it gives him character," she says, kissing the scar as her two children make barfing sounds.

Jack rises from the chair, going to give Massani a hug, and a long kiss, thoroughly embarrassing her children and grandchildren. "Now that everyone is here, it's time for the feast, right?"

Gathering together around the table, they dig into the meal prepared in honor of the family and friend known as Commander Shepard, Savior of the Galaxy.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: That's a wrap, folks. I might have misunderstood the point of the contest, having never done one of these before, but I think it turned into a decent story.<em>


End file.
